Sanctuary [h.s.]

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"Oh I'm a guilty one

And know what I have done

Yeah, I'm a troubled one

And I won't be forgiven"

***

Sunlight poured through the window, a warm, golden glow that painted my bedroom. Its heat seeped into my skin, grounding me in a way I hadn't felt in what seemed like ages. Harry's legs tangled with mine beneath the sheets, his touch featherlight as his hand skimmed up and down my bare side, soothing, like he could somehow press his coldness into warmth. We laid in a silent understanding, wrapped in each other, as if neither of us dared to shatter the peace before the inevitable march to Silas began.

My mind wandered in the stillness, drifting from one thought to the next until it settled, unyielding, on a question that had lingered at the back of my mind for too long. I shifted slightly in Harry's arms, tilting my face to look at him. His red eyes, alert yet softened in the morning light, glanced down at me.

"Harry," I began, a tentative edge to my voice, "once we've... dealt with Silas, and you're finally free, whether you ascend or not... If I asked you, would you turn me?"

The question settled in the air between us, heavy and fragile. His fingers paused on my skin, and for a moment, I thought he might say nothing at all.

"Why?" he murmured, his voice a rich, quiet rasp.

I took a slow breath, gathering the honesty pooling at the pit of my stomach. "I don't want to grow old. To...wither away until there's nothing left. I don't want to lose you." The words spilled out like a confession, and a pang clenched tight in my chest at the thought of leaving him in some distant, inevitable future.

Harry's eyes drifted thoughtfully, his fingers resuming their tender, absentminded motion along my skin. "I suppose I've never thought of it that way," he said after a moment, his voice weighted with something almost sad. "For me, it's always been tied to... pain, obedience. Power in chains." He paused, his gaze softening as it returned to me. "But if such power would please you, darling, I don't see how I could deny you. But decide carefully. I want you to stay you."

"Is it selfish of me," I whispered, "to want any power for myself?"

Harry's chuckle was soft, barely a ripple in the quiet morning air. He shook his head, a rueful smile playing on his lips. "No, of course not. I just..." He hesitated, his gaze distant, as though the memories he was drawing on were etched deep, too raw to easily voice. "I remember how it felt when I turned. My body twisted and burned, each nerve lit up like fire while I lay there, helpless to fight it off. It was like death had taken my heart in a vice, squeezing it until it finally beat its last." His voice dropped, tinged with a haunted edge, as though the echoes of that pain still lingered somewhere within him.

Instinctively, I nestled closer, pressing into his chest, as if my warmth could ward off the chill that memory brought. "Don't you want that as well?" I murmured, looking up at him. "Eternity together?"

Harry's gaze softened, and he brushed his thumb across my shoulder, his fingers gentle, grounding. "Of course I do," he replied, a quiet intensity lacing his words. "When the time comes, if you decide it's what you want, I'll do it for you. I'd do anything for you."

My hand slid over his chest, feeling the unyielding coolness beneath his shirt. "I would too," I whispered, feeling the truth of it settle like a vow.

In response, Harry's hand drifted up from my side, brushing against my cheek before he tucked a few stray strands of my copper hair behind my ear with a gentleness that surprised me. "I'll make it as painless as I can," he said softly, his gaze steady. "I don't want you to suffer, not the way I did. Not ever."